


I'll Be Hopeless, Hopelessly Romantic

by quitemagicaph



Category: Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Compliant, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Pining, a failed phone call, a lot of love, a successful voicemail, did I mention SOFT, did i mention loving asf, i guess?, simon is soft for bram only and vice versa, soft kisses eventually, sorry for the angst, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-10
Updated: 2018-02-10
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:29:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quitemagicaph/pseuds/quitemagicaph
Summary: Blue left Simon a note on the t-shirt he got him. That note had a postscript and his phone number on it.Minutes after he finds the note and reads it, Simon calls Blue.And Blue picks up.(Or; what could have gone down had Simon found Blue's second note earlier and had he decided to put it in good use and call Blue to uncover his identity.)





	I'll Be Hopeless, Hopelessly Romantic

**Author's Note:**

> Listen, I wanted to write this since June. Now it's February, and I'm only just posting it. I love being punctual.
> 
> Anyway. Huge, huge, HUGE thank you to my bestest friend and beta-reader [nasia](https://twitter.com/dawnworlders/) for not killing me when I always postponed finishing that goddamn fic. If it weren't for her, that small spark of idea I had back in June would still belong in the depths of my trashcan and even if I had brought it back on my own, it wouldn't be half as good (and angsty) as it now is. I love you so much nasia bb <3
> 
> Also, most of it got written with the gentle help of [this](https://open.spotify.com/user/afrodiv-gr/playlist/3cUvKX9iLasyl6bVdXyCxn) playlist, which I made for simonbram and which always has me crying somehow.
> 
> Oh, and all rights got to the awesome Becky Albertalli for the universe, and the characters, and the note I used, and the bits and pieces of her words I mixed into my own writing. You're amazing, Becky. Seriously.
> 
> Enjoy your reading!!
> 
> Title by Khalid's song Hopeless.
> 
> (A small heads up; it picks up right after the book's chapter 27.)

Simon makes sure he can keep his mind blank for as long as the play lasts. He floats through the play, making sure he remains in character the whole time, and after the applause and the bows, he steps off of the stage and tries not to think about Blue watching the play tonight.

Unless, of course, he didn’t come at all because he knew Simon was in it. Or he was somehow involved in the play production and was backstage watching the whole thing come to life, which just isn’t the case because there’s, like, three guys in the theater team, including Simon.

But then.

Martin Van Buren.

_ No.  _ There’s no way. Simon’s brain is playing games with him because he’s been working solely on the play for the past couple of weeks.

And there’s no way that’s a thing. Absolutely no way. Simon will die before witnessing that with his own two eyes.

He’s suddenly furious. He feels like throwing something against the wall. His head, perhaps.

Because there isn’t even a slim chance, neither there is a tiny possibility, that Martin Addison was behind Blue all along.

That's impossible. That's completely out of the question. That's the epitome of Simon logic.

So, what? Martin does share his name with with the eighth president of America. Literally millions of other normal, every-day, non-Blue people share their name with some other American president. After all, personality wise, Simon doubts Martin could ever pass off as anything remotely close to what his mental image of Blue could be.

Not that he’s been very good at creating that exact mental image, though. But that’s a whole other subject.

Martin isn't even that smart for that matter. A geek? Yes. But smart and witty and subtle like Blue? Never.

And, well, it’s not like Simon knows Martin that well, but it was for some good reason he never honestly cared about getting to know Martin better.

But if it  _ is _ true, and if Martin truly is Blue, then what the hell does that even  _ mean _ ?

It's either a sick joke Martin has been playing on him for five months now, or Simon has been falling in love with Martin  _ fucking _ Addison all along. Of all people to fall for.

Of all homophobic assholes to fall for.

Simon doesn't know which scenario is worse.

He violently scrubs his face clean of all hints and traces of makeup with water, as if to cleanse his conscience of all the bullshit it has been through.

"Simon, no!" says Abby, startling him.

Simon looks at her expectantly. "What?"

"You washed it off!" she sighs. Then she intensely stares at Simon's face. "I guess you can still kind of see it."

Simon raises a brow. "You mean the ridiculous hotness?"

Abby grins. "Listen, I got a text from Nick, he's waiting for us in the parking lot. We might go out tonight, you coming?"

Simon ponders it. Is he really in the mood to go out after all that happened? Is he really in the mood to do anything else apart from going home, curling up in a ball of self pity and wanting to repeatedly bang his head against the nearest wall because of how stupid he's been?

Not only because of the Martin stuff, but also because of how bad he’s been at Blue lately. He highly doubts they’ll ever exchange another email after all that has happened.

On the other hand, he could really use a night out. But he'll pass.

"No, I'm just gonna head back. Day too long."

That earns a pout from Abby. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah. Thanks though."

Abby thankfully lets it go. She smiles, and wraps her arms around Simon's back, enclosing him in a hug. "I'll see you on Monday."

Simon forces a smile. A lot can happen until Monday.

~~~

It's undoubtedly been quite the day for Bram. Quite the week, actually.

He isn't sure whether he (well,  _ Blue _ ) and Simon are on speaking terms, first off. They didn't fight per se, it was just Bram deciding to do what's best both for himself and for Simon, considering it's now proven that Simon doesn't like him back.

He distanced himself. He hasn’t even emailed Simon back for a while now and it’s so odd to him. The emails took up a big portion of Bram’s so far life.

And Simon seems to be too stuck up on that Cal Price guy to care further and put two and two together anyway.

Which is all exactly why he doesn't understand what exactly possessed him and got him to buy Simon the Elliott Smith t-shirt.

Bram really wonders about his motives, sometimes. That guy's hugely unaware of how long Bram has been "secretly" pining over him and apparently the right way to deal with Simon’s oblivion is to get him a present. But he couldn't stop himself, to be quite honest. He vividly remembers Simon's protocol about music merchandise. But it was the perfect gift; only Simon would know who it was from, and only Bram would know who got it for him.

What he also couldn't help was the note. The two notes, actually.

The first one was crucial. If it were Simon's birthday, his present would need a birthday card.

The other one, though? That he can't believe he dared to sneak in.

It smoothly proved Bram's irreparable crush for Simon. Things that he, as Bram Greenfeld has noticed, yet explained and worded in Blue’s quiet way.

Bram doesn’t quite like how he sometimes separates himself from Blue, like the person speaking in real life is different than the one emailing Simon. But he does kind of think about it that way.

It’s a little like a double life, but with each side colliding with the other in one common ground; Simon.

As weird as it sounds.

It kills Bram to know that things went south with them. It was inevitable, but it stank. Bram isn't used to that feeling of radio silence between them, nor does he want to start getting used to it.

And just the thought of Simon finding his gift, and afterwards locating one note after the other, makes his heart leap over a few beats.

No matter if they speak or not, Simon now has his phone number, and he’s able to do whatever the hell he wishes with it. He's able to call him whenever he wants. He's able to uncover Blue's identity whenever he wants.

Though he’s also able to throw the note in the trash and act like it never happened.

But, let’s say he does call. Then  _ what? _

_ Great, _ he thinks,  _ that will make for an excellent non-awkward at all phone call. _

He's that deeply consumed into his thoughts, he doesn't even hear Garrett calling out for him.

"Greenfeld!"

Bram startles. The school’s parking lot is crowded with people getting into their cars to head home. It's nearly as loud as the commotion taking place inside Bram's head at this current moment.

"Hi."

"Are you leaving?"

"Yeah, I'm going home."

Garrett approaches him, raising a brow. "Don't you wanna come with us? The team's going out tonight."

"Nah." Bram shakes his head. "Not really in the mood. I'll talk to you later."

He's about to head back around and climb into his car, but Garrett steps into his tracks again.

"Hey," he says, "you're not still upset because of that Simon thing, are you? I already told you, it was probably Abby jumping to conclusions. It’s not even that rare of an occasion for her to be doing that."

Bram sighs. "I'm not. I'm just worn out."

Garrett scowls. "You certainly look the part, dude. Go sleep some, okay?"

Bram nods, and silently thanks God for Garrett not pestering him any longer.

He still is (slightly) upset about Simon and Cal. But, truthfully, it was a pretty great distraction seeing Simon wearing eyeliner today. His heart is broken, but his mind was grateful for the pretty sight of Simon’s dark makeup. It reminded Bram of exactly what it was that got him to notice him in the first place.

He loves his moon-gray eyes indeed.

He takes one final glance towards the direction of Simon's usual parking spot before driving away, yet his car is still there. And none of his friends are to be seen around.

Bram lets out another  sigh.

He drives home in silence. He's not in the mood for music. Though Bram’s sure Simon would know specifically what songs to listen to so he can feel better.

Yet Simon isn’t here, and Simon doesn’t even have a tiny clue about who Blue is.

He gets home and makes a beeline for his room. He drops his phone face down on his nightstand and flops onto his bed.

~~~

Surprisingly enough, no one bothers Simon when he gets home. His parents are too caught up in some sitcom playing on TV that they barely notice him when he walks by and heads upstairs.

Which id great. Simon isn't to be talked to right now.

He drops his bag on his desk and pulls out his phone from his back pocket so he doesn't smash it the moment he backtracks onto his bed.

Under different circumstances, he would open his computer and check his inbox, but he now knows it's pointless.

Blue isn't writing back. Whoever he is, he isn't contacting Simon anymore.

He sighs.  _ Whoever he is. _

He's more calm now, which means that he can rationally and thoroughly think about the possibility of Blue being Martin. But he can't do that.

Just slightly thinking about it makes Simon feel sick.

He runs a hand through his mess of hair, exasperated.

There are still so many utterly confusing things that took place this week. Like; what exactly Blue meant with "everything seems to be working out for you". Or how he handled himself and didn't beat up Martin after all that he's been through with him. Or how pointedly Cute Bram was looking at him when he showed face at the cafeteria wearing eyeliner.

Simon shifts a little on the bed, no longer staring up at the ceiling. Something shuffles under his pillow.

He shoves his hand below it, feeling the smooth surface of the plastic bag hidden there.

Huh.

Another thing Simon doesn't understand:

Why he's still to wear the t-shirt Blue got him.

He sits up and pulls the bag out.

Simon guesses it's a little weird wearing the t-shirt now that he and Blue, well, aren't really talking. It's like wearing the t-shirt your ex forgot to pick up from your house after you two broke up.

Which isn’t that far away from what actually happened.

But then again, Blue and Simon didn't break up. They barely had something in the first place.

So, fuck it. Simon quickly rids himself of the hoodie and t-shirt he's already wearing to replace them with the new and fresh material of the Eliott Smith one.

It's inexplicable why, but he instantly feels better. Calmer, even.

Although something keeps tickling him in between his shoulder blades. Simon initially guesses it’s the t-shirt tag, but when he reaches back to tug it out, he finds a piece of paper pinned there.

It's another note. Written on another piece of blue-green construction paper.

 

_ P.S. I love the way you smile like you don’t realize you’re doing it. I love your perpetual bed head. I love the way you hold eye contact a moment longer than you need to. And I love your moon-gray eyes. So if you think I’m not attracted to you, Simon, you’re crazy. _

 

Simon's heart clenches. 

He takes a breath in.

There's a phone number written neatly under the P.S. He almost doesn’t see it there.

Simon reads the scribbled words again and again so as to take it all in.

It’s just so overwhelming.

The note. The phone number. The blue-green construction paper.

The confession that Blue truly is attracted to Simon. The real Simon. Not Jacques. Nor the alternate, email version of him.

That's how Simon knows it isn't Martin. That's how he knows all the emails going back and forth were real, and that it wasn't more than a scam.

In fact, he could call Blue right now to confirm it.

Holy shit.

He can call Blue.

Just like that, just with a simple tap of his finger, he will be able to listen to Blue's voice for the first time.

Well, possibly for the first time.

And Simon’s probably crazy for seriously considering that option, but he’s seriously considering that option.

He whips his head around to check his bedside clock and make sure it isn't too late, and it isn't.

Oh god.

He's doing this. He's calling Blue.

A small voice of rationality is screaming at him to  _ not _ do it, and that he should think about it first before acting upon his excitement, but fuck logic, am I right?

As if some upper force has taken control over him, he grabs his phone from where it was dropped on the duvet. His fingers hover over the screen, and he's shaking.

_ This is happening. _

Simon types in the 10-digit number and momentarily closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. Because yes, he’s really set his mind on doing this, but it’s not like his bravery doesn’t come with a certain nerve-wracking side effect. He isn't sure if he's even breathing properly right now. He's been longing after this moment for months upon months, and now that it's here, it feels surreal and scary as hell.

And what if Blue doesn't pick up? What if he doesn't want to talk to him, exactly for the reason why he doesn't want to write to him back?

And even worse; What if he  _ picks up _ ?

Simon doesn't let his brain overthink it any longer. Crossing his fingers, he makes the phone call.

~~~

Bram must have fallen asleep at some point, because he comes to his senses almost unaware of his surroundings and his lower back hurting from the way he had lied on his bed.

What wakes him up is his phone buzzing endlessly on his nightstand. He's still plenty dazed from his small nap, and he doesn't really consider the possibility of receiving a phone call from anyone else but Garrett. Or his teammates. They probably need a ride home, or whatever. It's not the first time Bram will have to drive them back, shit-faced and senselessly drunk from some kid's party. And nor will it be the last.

Though when he checks the caller ID, he doesn't recognize the number.

That’s rare.

_ But not if it’s someone specific. _

Bram lets out a small gasp. His eyes widen.

_ No. It can't be. _

He found the note. Simon found the note.

One part of Bram is glad he only gave his phone number to Simon now because if he gave in and did it earlier, Simon being Simon would do something as bold as this and call Bram the first chance he gets.

Another part of Bram, though, is plain terrified.

He isn’t even sure that it’s truly Simon calling, yet his breath is catching on his throat. His walls may be about to fall down fully. Blue may no longer be a hidden identity. And, provided it’s him, Simon will know who it is that he has been pouring his heart out to since August.

He sucks in a breath. He can't delay swiping right any longer. Simon will probably think Bram--  _ Blue _ is ignoring him, like he -justifiably- does on Gmail.

He accepts the call, putting his phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

Bram waits for a response. He almost counts the seconds as they tick by.

Who is he kidding? He almost sees time freeze up and stop right in front of his fear-stained eyes.

Yet all he gets back is radio silence.

"Simon," he tries, "is that you?"

His voice is a prayer. He’s begging for it to be him. He needs it like he hasn’t needed anything else in his life.

_ Please let it be you. _

_ Please, Simon. _

And just like that, the line goes dead.

~~~

Bram startles.

_ What? _

Bram spares his screen a second glance. The call has ended.

What the hell just happened?

Did Simon really just…?

Although this could have just been any random person calling the wrong number by mistake. But for some reason, Bram knows that's not the case.

Call it a gut feeling? Call it grasping at straws?

Bram just knows.

His heart clenches. Of all the scenarios his brain had fabricated during all these months of talking to Simon (or Jacques, for that matter), their first phone call ending abruptly and shorter than expected  _ just because Simon hung up on him the moment he heard Bram’s voice  _ was nowhere near the least of what he was hoping for.

I mean, was Simon  _ that _ disappointed?

Bram can't help but feel a little hurt. Just a tiny bit. He wants to be optimistic and hope that there's some adequate explanation as to what truly went down, but Simon really was clueless about Blue. He shouldn’t be too quick to cross out any possible scenarios. God knows who Simon expected Blue to be.

Maybe he was just massively turned off by the fact that, of all people, Blue turned out to be Bram. Awkward, introverted Bram Greenfeld who has barely been able to pronounce a single coherent word when around Simon.

That possibility is making Bram want to shamefully hide in his house for sixty years and never see the sunlight again, but whatever. He's got to be strong and face the truth and somehow keep his heart intact while doing so.

Bram presses the phone application on his screen. Some small part of him is eager to call the number back, just to make sure that it  _ was  _ Simon calling, but that would make for another messy phone call encounter, and Bram has had enough of those already.

Plus, he only accepts to be rejected by Simon Spier once per night.

So, instead of calling back, he pulls up Nick's contact. He figures he might not be at home considering most of his classmates have some place interesting to go to on a Friday night (unlike Bram), but he has to ask him something.

He types in a quick text.

_ Hey, Nick. If I'm not bothering, can you send me Simon Spier's contact info? I said I'd help him out with this calc project that we have, but I forgot to ask him about his number. _

Which only proves how much of a bad liar Bram is.

He shouldn't feel as exposed and desperate as he does. It's only a text. You can't tell if someone’s lying through a text.

Nick replies within minutes.

_ Sure thing. Wait a sec. _

Bram lets out a sigh of relief. Not that Nick would be nosy like that and ask him more about the "project" and Simon, but it's good to know he isn't weird about it either.

The next text he receives is one of a phone number. Bram instantly saves it under the name  _ Simon _ (he almost puts it as Jacques though, to calm his nerves), and types up a quick "thank you" message to Nick.

And, as he expected, it really was him calling.

The previously foreign calling number in his recent call log is replaced by that of Simon.

Great, Bram thinks. He mentally slaps himself.

Of course it was Simon.

He was dumb enough to believe Simon liked him back. He was naïve enough to think that Simon, despite everything, despite  _ Cal Price, _ had even the slightest bit of hope that Blue would turn out to be Bram.

He was stupid enough to see things that weren't there. And that's what one gets for reaching too far.

~~~

Suffice to say, Simon's self hatred has reached an ultimate tonight.

If he could, he would be screaming into the void right now. And he’s sure he can’t do that because the void probably hates him as well.

If he could, he would also fling himself into outer space so he wouldn't have to worry about being alive any longer.

Because, yes. He did hang up. He wishes he knew why.

It's just. He  _ panicked _ , okay?

It was the worst possible thing to do in the entire history of the world’s top worst things to ever happen. But Simon's thought process wasn't exactly logicall for those few seconds that he was on the phone with Blue. Neither it was during the few seconds before calling him.

Before calling  _ Bram Greenfeld. _

Simon wants to smack himself. Now that he knows, now that Blue is no longer a superhero identity and officially has a human entity, it all makes perfect sense. All that has ever puzzled Simon about Blue, is now brought together to make Bram.

And solely that realization, that Blue is a real person and in fact, someone Simon has  _ noticed _ in multiple ways, yet still hasn’t noticed enough to see through his subtle clues, caused him to lose his freaking  _ mind _ .

It was a massive emotional instability coming down at him and crushing him whole.

He couldn't believe it was real. He couldn't believe that, Bram or not, he really was on the phone with the only person Simon has truly felt connected to from the very first second.

And he's not going to lie, Blue being Cute-As-Hell Bram makes it about fifty times better.

But Simon still hung up, and he still hates himself for doing so.

It was a lot to handle. The second he heard Bram's voice, he realized he needed more time. He was so eager to prove to even Blue himself, probably, that he wasn't Martin he barely mentally prepared himself about what would follow up the first "hello".

God, he's such a monumental idiot. How  _ could _ he hang up after the softest greeting he's ever heard?

Damn it, Bram. He's out there, being cute as fuck, and soft as fuck, and low-key as fuck. He definitely cramps Simon's style.

And it's all coming back to bite him in the ass because he never hesitates to express his displeasure with straight people not being able to get their shit together. As if Simon himself was able to form one, structured sentence when on the phone for the first time with Blue. Well, Bram.

It's all so fucking ironic.

Jesus Christ, the more time that passes, the more it dawns on Simon how stupidly he acted.

He ruined their long awaited mask dropping. Because he fucking  _ panicked _ and acted like a dick.

Simon owes Bl--  _ Bram  _ a 10 pages long apology explaining how hanging up had nothing to do with him hearing Bram's voice on the speaker and how it was all a pure, fresh product of his brain playing games on him.

For real, though. The way things went down, it really is like the universe wanted to punish Simon for even  _ daring _ to assume someone as thick on the head and obnoxious as Martin Addison could ever hold the place of someone as smart and important as  _ Bram Greenfeld _

That's what he gets for overthinking.

Bram, though.

Bram has been behind this all along.

And Simon had no clue.  _ Wow. _

He tests out the name on his mouth.  _ Bram Bram Bram. _

Cute Bram Greenfeld.

All this time, unbeknownst to him, Simon has been emailing back and forth with Bram. And now he may have a chance to pursue more with him. Provided he cleans up after his mess.

Cal Price be damned. And so be any other guy Simon has ever found even remotely attractive. Bram Greenfeld has wormed his way deep into Simon's heart.

He had already started doing so before Simon knew Bram is Blue, but now it’s all amplified.

Simon starts to fully see it now. Bram is far past crush material, he thinks. He has those sparkly eyes, that bright, luminous smile he rarely lets show on full display but when he does it leaves an impact, that mysterious vibe around him that always somehow made Simon want to know more and more about him.

But most importantly, Bram is Blue.

Simon lets a small smile play on his lips, but not for long.

He hopes he hasn't fucked it up completely. He prays and begs to God he hasn't. It would kill him if he has. And most importantly he hopes he can somehow fix it.

It's only been around fifteen minutes since he did that-which-shall-not-be-named, but Simon's finger hovers over his phone, debating whether to text-apologize to Bram or not. The debate doesn't last long, though.

Simon drops his phone on his mattress. Bram deserves better than a rushed apology through text. Bram deserves a full-on, cheesy, romantic love declaration with flowers and slow music playing and candles everywhere.

And Simon gives himself a deadline until Monday to decide on how exactly he's going to attempt to clean his shit up.

He falls back on bed, exhales loudly, and tries to slow down his brain enough so he can catch some sleep.

The last thing he thinks of before sleep takes over him is Bram’s eyes.

~~~

Simon sleeps until late morning. And he wakes up tired. Last night was an endless, restless tossing around that left him exhausted even by the time he opens his eyes and decides to go through his day.

He kind of somehow hopes that Friday night was only a dream, that he didn't actually call and voluntarily hung up on Bram. His Blue. But it’s no such luck.

It's an indifferent Saturday now, with the only difference that this time, Simon's life is a slightly bigger mess than it normally is.

It’s weird how four high school years worth of drama and eventful situations seem to have crammed up in Simon’s junior year. He hates that. It throws him off schedule.

He sighs.

He really needs to find a way to stitch it up with Bram. Because amongst all, what throws him off schedule the most is not talking to him. He can't lose him. Simon's week has been shit for the sole purpose that it started with his and Blue's relationship going bad. And the more he doesn’t talk to him, the wilder his mind gets.

Damn. The more he doesn’t talk to  _ Bram _ . It will take him a while before he can get used to calling Blue by his actual name.

Of course Bram would choose a fake name like Blue to use when contacting Simon. He isn't sure, but at the moment it really sounds fitting to Bram's entire mindset. At least for the way Simon sees it.

Exactly how Blue’s entire character outline seems to be a perfect cut out for Bram.

Damn. Simon needs to, I don’t know, use his eyes more often.

He briefly checks his phone's notifications, to find no texts nor calls except for an hour long text from Leah letting him know that she'll be over at Nick's basement like they usually do on weekends.

Simon decides to join them, so he can momentarily pause his brain from spinning. He really needs some peace and quiet right now.

He really needs Leah and Nick's peaceful and quiet normality.

He walks down the stairs about twenty minutes later, after showering briefly and putting on a shirt that doesn’t ring vividly to him of Bram, and deliberately swerves and deflects all questions his parents ask him while breakfast. Simon isn't in the mood for talking and he silently wills his parents to quit it, because the interrogation is killing him faster than usual.

Lucky for Simon, they do, and they hardly question it when they see him hook in Bieber's leash and announce he’s leaving the house. Simon is immensely proud of how he managed to remain calm and collected and ordinary despite his whirlwind of emotions.

When he gets to Nick's house, about five minutes later, Bieber tagging along on his leash, he immediately walks towards the back of the house where the basement is. He spots Nick and Leah immediately.

Leah runs to pet Bieber, saying a rushed "hey" to Simon. Nick barely looks up from his phone.

A normal greeting. A normal morning. Although Simon wishes it was all as normal as it seems.

"You smashed it yesterday, Si," Leah says, after giving Bieber the warm welcome he so appreciates. Simon smiles awkwardly.

"Thanks, I guess."

"You guess?"

He shrugs. "I mean, I didn't even have any lines."

"Here's to Simon getting lines in senior year," Nick mumbles from behind him. Leah sighs, agreeing.

"I'll drink to that," she says. She mock raises an imaginary glass to Nick’s statement. "Martin was funny and all, but he really gotta tone it down a little. He's too much."

Yeah. As if Simon doesn't already know how  _ much _ he really is.

As if Martin fucking Addison didn't spend his past few months blackmailing Simon and interfering into his life as if he has any say in it.

As if Martin isn't the one who outed Simon to the entire school because he wanted to feel better for his little, pathetic heartbreak issue.

As if Martin isn’t the school’s worst asshole in a place full of assholes.

He just nods though, avoiding to answer in case he exposes himself and shows exactly how much he despises Martin.

He sits down on the couch, next to Nick. He looks over his shoulder, on Nick's phone, and watches along on the video that's playing.

"Hey, all good with Bram?" Nick asks suddenly. Simon startles, his stomach sinking.

How does Nick even know about Bram?

Did he smell the messiness all over him, or something?

Damn, it's  _ that _ obvious. Everyone will be talking about Simon’s fuck-up on Tumblr soon enough.

"Bram?"

Nick nods absentmindedly. "Yeah? He said he had something to ask you about some project, I don't know."

"Project?"

"Yeah, Simon, he texted me last night for your phone number because he couldn't find you elsewhere and it's about a calc project, he said, are you okay?"

Nick now turns to stare at him. Leah watches them talk from a distance.

No, Simon isn't okay. In fact, he’s feeling rather shitty, and he barely even got any sleep because his dreams were flooded of images of Bram and the emails and Simon’s haunting phone call.

If only he could tell someone all that.

" _ Oh _ . Yeah, yeah, all good with that," he quickly replies, earning a small nod from Nick. Leah just sinks further down on the floor, and is now full on sprawled down, next to Simon’s dog.

So as it turns out, Bram was looking for Simon's phone number. He guesses that happened after he hung up. Because why else would Bram want to call Simon out of the blue (no pun intended) except for calling back to make sure it truly was him on the other end of the line?

Because Simon was stupid enough to not even say a single word on the phone, and so he left Bram hoping it was him, wanting it to be him.

Of course Bram went searching for Simon’s phone number. He needed a confirmation that Simon’s an idiot.

His voice was so hopeful when he picked up. It was almost a whisper. As if he had waited for that phone call, as if he had dreamed for that moment to come along for months.

Maybe Bram even had been dreaming of it. Simon had, too.  Despite him ruining it, eventually.

How does he even begin to  _ fix _ this?

Simon forces those thoughts out of his head. He honestly doesn't have the energy to overanalyze anything right now. Like, he gets it. He's an awful human being. And he ruined one of the only truly worthy things in his life, possibly for good. But enough with the guilt.

He eventually tries his best to involve himself in Leah and Nick's conversation, so he has something to busy himself with. At least until he returns home and dives back in his endless loop of self-hatred and non-stop listening party of angsty playlists.

Which is what he does for the entire weekend. He takes breaks in between moping to squeeze in some homework and fulfil basic human needs, but other than that he spends most of it at home. Which isn’t really that unforeseen, considering Simon’s tiny group of friends.

He spends a  _ decent  _ amount of time looking at his recent call log, focusing on Bram's name still remaining on top of it. He soon enough memorizes his phone number; he's stared at his contact for way too long, it's humanly impossible to not remember it.

He types about 28 texts for Bram. All including about 12 apologies each. All of which end up getting eaten by the backspace.

He even pondered changing the contact name to "Blue", so it can feel real. So he can feel like he still has one, tiny shot at trying again.

It honestly feels like Simon's going through a breakup. Although it's kind of worse than that, because at least a breakup is official. You break up with someone, and that’s it. You part ways. But him and Bram are currently in the awkward stage where they could easily be broken up, especially after how Simon acted. Only that there was no official or spoken declaration about where they truly are right now, and that makes it all worse for Simon.

They had been on deafening silence the whole week. And now it's amplified and worsened.

All Simon wants is to find the right words to apologize, because for someone like Blue, a straight-up rejected call could possibly mean far more than it actually did. It was only the product of nerves, yet Simon knows that, for Bram, it's more than.

He wishes he had never called. He wishes he'd wait. He pressured Bram to meet him in person before he was ready to, and when he finally was, and he put his heart on the line, and gave Simon his phone number, Simon rushed and called, as if he was ready himself. He wasn't ready. He was just eager and curious to find out.

He hadn't realized how much bigger it would all end up being.

Simon sighs deeply. He feels the sigh split his soul open.

He never prays, he's not even religious, but right now he does pray, wanting all to go back to the way it was.

~~~

The thing is, Simon thought of calling Bram again. He was a tap away from calling on Sunday night. Yet he decided against it.

Simon has already established that Bram doesn't deserve just a simple phone call. He deserves much more. And Simon will try his best to offer all that to him.

So that's how he finds himself driving him and his sister at school five whole minutes earlier, just so he can search for Bram.

Five minutes is such an achievent. Simon almost doesn’t recognize himself.

He's hoping he can spot and talk to Bram before the first bell rings, and it's not like that move is anything impressive, but all Simon wants for now is at least to get Bram to listen to him.

Although Bram is nowhere to be seen. Which is pretty weird, if Simon's honest. He could have sworn Bram's the type of person to get to school and to everywhere, basically, early enough so he can judge Simon for always being late.

A sigh.  _ Great.  _ He was wrong about that part too.

It only gets even weirder when Bram doesn't show face during English either. Mr. Wise counts him as absent, and Simon guesses he probably is absent, yet he still wants to somehow confirm it.

Simon is legitimately about to pull out his phone and text Bram right at this moment to ask for his whereabouts. He's kind of worried. He's kind of feeling guilty, too.

When it's finally lunch break, Simon rushes to the cafeteria, and follows Garrett suit as he makes his way towards their table.

Simon quickens his step and materializes in front of him. Garrett jumps back, face laced with surprise.

"Spier."

"Yeah, hi," Simon says under his breath. His heart is pounding in his chest. "Did Bram come at school today?"

Garrett furrows his brow. "No, why?"

"He didn't?"

He bores his eyes onto Simon before frowning. "No, he didn't."

"Fuck," Simon says. He immediately tries to cover it up. "I mean, it's fine. I didn't want anything specific."

"He's probably at home," Garrett points out. "I think he said he needed to catch up on homework, but I’m really not sure if there’s even anything to catch up on. Dude's been done with even next week's due essays."

_ Oh. _

Unless Bram isn't even at home and he just lied to Garrett to avoid questions.

Unless he got sick and stayed at home and Simon probably won't see him for two or three more days. Which rings all kinds of bells to him.

He gives a sharp nod to Garrett, and makes heads straight towards the rest of their group, pretending nothing's wrong.

Garrett interrupts his way again though, and this time it’s him who speaks first.

“By the way,” he says, “Congrats for your play on Friday. You were dope.”

Simon raises a brow in question. “You came to watch the play?”

“Unwillingly so,” Garrett smirks. “It was Bram who wouldn’t shut up about us going. He practically dragged me there.”

Garrett walks away without waiting for Simon’s response and joins the others on their lunch table.

_ Bram wouldn’t shut up about going to the play. _

He lets himself relish a little at the thought of Bram smiling fondly as he sees Simon on scene, before diving back into his pool of negativity.

A few beats later, he sits down with his friends too.

And he's not going to lie. The seat next to Garrett is awfully, tragically empty today. He very much likes having someone as cute as Bram sit across him and be his good-old cute self.

He's extra cute now that Simon knows he's the face and body of his beloved Blue.

And he misses him all day, as well. The desk across the aisle in calc is blank and empty, and Simon sort of feels his heart ache when he looks at it.

If he can't fix it, he will never be able to forgive it from himself.

By the time he drives himself and Nora home, his brain is back to spinning like it did all weekend, and Simon is devastated, to say the least. He's hurting, and not (just) because Bram wasn't at school.

He's hurting because it started dawning on him that he was horribly oblivious to all of Blue's clues. Pun fully intended.

Yes, Bram wasn't straightforward and blatantly obvious like Simon was, but if only he'd taken the time to really  _ notice _ Bram in their daily encounters. He's sure that if he'd done that, he'd been able to figure it out and put it together before proceeding to embarrass himself the way he did.

Chances are, if Simon had noticed Bram from the start, he'd been looking for Blue to be him. But that’s a whole other subject.

That thought alone aggravates him. That thought alone makes him  _ lose his mind _ . Because here he is now, caught up in the middle of a huge mess, not knowing when or how to apologize because no moment will ever seem right enough.

Here stands Simon, not wanting to admit he's fallen hopelessly in love, while at the same time hurting and deeply confusing the last person he'd ever think of upsetting.

It makes Simon want to cry.

He doubts he's ever been nearly as frustrated as he is right now. It honestly gnaws and claws at him and cuts him to pieces. He can't take that gut-wrenching feeling any longer.

And that's why he picks up the phone again.

Fuck it. Bram deserves better than another call. But Simon will be dead before he manages to fully reciprocate all that Bram has made him feel.

Simon hits the dial. He gives himself a second chance.

And he hopes Bram gives him a second chance as well.

~~~

Well, Bram definetely wasn’t planning on not attending school today.

It kind of just happened. It was the aftermath of a lot of things.

He slept through his first alarm, which hardly ever happens. He woke up fifteen minutes later than usual and his mom was already gone by the time he got up.

And he did have homework to catch up to. Which is  _ very _ odd, considering everyone, including God himself, probably, knows that Bram is top of all his classes, always punctual, never over-due with any assignment.

Damn. He’ll have a lot of explaining to do to his mom once she’s back from work and learns about Bram’s nonexistent excuse for skipping school.

But who can exactly blame him? Bram spent an unreasonable amount of time procrastinating from school work by staring at the ceiling and thinking about everything and nothing at all and specifically about someone who means everything yet confuses him endlessly.

_ Procrastinating. _

Wow. Simon really does have an interesting effect on Bram. He’s the only one who can distract him as much as he does, and the worst thing is that Simon’s well aware of that fact. And of many other facts as well.

Yet Simon still hung up on him, so there’s that.

Why else would he hang up if not for the fact that Simon doesn’t want much to do with him? And why else would he guess wrong about Blue being Bram in the first place?

Bram was  _ very obvious _ . Very. He left a trail of little clues for Simon to follow and lead himself to Bram, but apparently Simon took a wrong turn somewhere.

Bram doesn’t know whether that wrong even  _ existed _ in the first place.

But after all, Bram has already established that Simon’s into Cal Price. As much as it pinches his heart to admit it, it’s the truth. No wonder why Simon was shocked when he heard Bram instead of Cal on the other end of the line.

He kind of feels bad for disappointing Simon like that.

All that is well-digested for Bram by now. He had a weekend full of overthinking behind him. And he has by now prepared his heart for the worst.

Said worst would be; Simon calling again. Him running into Simon in school. Simon looking for him in school and asking to talk to him.

Seeing Simon in general.

Simon.

_ God. _

Seeing Simon openly start dating that Cal guy within this week.

Yeah. Bram needs to stop thinking about that.

He shakes his head violently as if to rid himself of something and tries to distract himself with the chemistry notes he’s been staring at for a good half hour.

He needs to stop being so hung up on Simon. At least until he finds out what really went down and, God forbid, gets a legitimate reason why he needs to stop caring for him.

Bram would rather kill himself than suffer through a “break-up” with Simon.

Not like he knows exactly what they broke up from, though.

Is “emailing for a few months and flirting intensely with each other but not ever talking about our feelings openly” a valid relationship label?

He needs to ask someone’s opinion on this.

Bram sighs. His head feels too heavy suddenly.

He needs to ask  _ Simon’s _ opinion on this.

Bram lets his head hit against his desk.

He really wishes Simon wasn’t so dense sometimes.

If he wasn’t, Bram wouldn’t be still pining after him right now. They’d be dating, or something like that. They’d be the school’s token gay couple. They’re both totally the types of people to declare themselves the token gay couple.

He also really wishes he wasn’t so wrapped around Simon’s finger, but that’s a whole other story, because falling for Simon (and Jacques) was inevitable and without doubt the easiest thing he ever did.

Imagine how freaking relieved he was to find out Simon and Jacques were the same person. All those nights he spent trying to choose one side. All those times he regretted flirting with Jacques when Simon was right there, smiling brighter than the sun shines at Bram from across the lunch table.

But Simon is way too confusing, and his mixed, and lately negative, signals mess with Bram’s heart to a frustrating point. He doesn’t even know what to think of all that.

Bram has been silently praying for Simon to somehow get his shit together and work to fix things. A much as he wishes for Simon to not come in contact with him, considering he’s scared of his reaction to hearing Simon’s voice again, a small, hopeful part of him, desperately wills Simon to pick up the  _ damn _ phone again.

It’s what Simon must do. For them.

For Blue.

Bram then notices his phone resting screen-down on top of a textbook pile near him, and he remembers he had shut it down so as to not distract himself, but he’s plenty distracted on his own anyway.

He switches the phone on, and waits for his notifications to load.

He can’t help but hope for a Simon text, or email.

And, as if on queue, Bram’s phone rings with a text.

Probably someone from his soccer team who’s checking up on him, he thinks.

Because his mind definetely won’t grasp the concept of a Simon text.

But that’s not the case.

He gasps. But immediately frowns.

It turns out to be a Simon text.

In fact, it’s a voicemail.

Bram almost cackles in the middle of his existential crisis.

A voicemail? Really?

People still leave voicemails?

Bram really thought voicemails got lost in time and never made it to the post-iPhone era.

But for some reason it makes total sense for Simon Spier, of all people, to send a voicemail. Bram isn’t sure why, but Simon would totally do that.

It kind of pays homage to the emails in some obscure way. Bram doesn’t know the context of the voicemail yet, but he decides he likes the concept of it. It’s more direct and personal than the emails used to be, but also not too direct for Bram to go weak at the knees and be unable to choke out words to say to Simon.

He smiles a tiny smile.

Maybe his prayers were heard after all.

God is real.

Unless, of course, that voicemail is the break-up confirmation Bram was waiting for all weekend. But his heart is swollen with hope and beating with purpose, and he somehow can’t think of that right now.

Bram checks the time mark of the voicemail. 4:26 pm. Which means it hasn’t been long since Simon got out of school.

Something about that makes his heart flutter in his chest.  _ Maybe Simon couldn’t wait any longer. _

Bram takes a deep breath. All the preparing he thought he had done over the weekend for any possible Simon circumstance is currently flying out of the window.

His thumb hovers over the voicemail. He gets brave and taps to listen to it.

His breath catches in his throat the moment Simon’s voice floods his ears.

_ “Um-- Hi, Bram. It’s me, Simon. God, it feels so freaking weird not calling you Blue. I feel like I haven’t fully earned the right of calling you by your actual name. Or, like, calling you in general. I mean, we both know that I one hundred percent failed at doing that exact thing. And I’m such a dick for that. So, this is me taking a chance on apologizing. You’re totally free not to listen to me, for all that I know, you may not even open that… voicemail or whatever it is, because you’re rightfully mad at me and I deserve nothing more than your radio silence. But I really can’t do this, Bram. I’m so, so sorry for hanging up on you. Sorry means nothing and it barely changes anything, but it was too much. You picked up-- Blue picked up, and he turned out to be you, and I suddenly wasn’t ready, and I couldn’t think of words adequate enough to say, and you were waiting for me on the other end of the line, and I realized I needed more time before finally talking to you beyond the emails, and I ended the call. That sounds, like, sixty pounds of lame. And it is, God, I know it is, but I panicked. And as soon as I hung up I slapped myself because I had just shut the phone down on the one person I had been needing to talk to in person like nothing else on the world. And I wanted to apologize in person, or at least try to, but you weren’t at school today and Garrett didn’t know where you are, and in the midst of it all I got worried about whether you’re okay and… wow I’m running out of time. Anyway, just… If you get this, please call me? Or text, whatever works better for you. Or email. Please email me, Bram. I wouldn’t ever forgive myself for losing you.” _

A beep signals the end of the voicemail, and Bram almost doesn’t hear it.

He doesn’t remember how he ended up sinking down on his bed, phone clutched tightly on his ear, listening to Simon’s voice, letting his entire body warm up and lighten at the sound of Simon’s words.

_ I won’t ever forgive myself for losing you. _

Bram mentally smacks himself.

As if the Simon Bram knows would ever willingly let what they’ve come to have wither away.

Of course Simon left an apology voicemail. Of course Simon wasn’t going to break up with him. Bram or not, Simon has been excellent at proving Blue has come to mean a lot to him, no matter the face behind the person.

And even though Bram isn’t exactly sure that’s a good thing, considering Simon had no idea about Blue’s identity and it was fairly obvious from the start that Bram would have let him know if only Simon knew were to look, Bram allows himself that tiny moment of relief.

He smiles self-consciously, as if trying to hide his happiness from someone. But that’s only until he realizes it’s now up to him to step up and officially stitch up the gap between them, because that thought alone makes Bram panic slightly.

Simon did his part. They still have a long way to go, but Bram’s thoughts had so far only been restricted up to the point he’s at right now. He was somehow adamant about thinking Simon’s only action after the phone call would be him contacting Bram again to tell him he’s ending things between them because he was oh-so disappointed of Blue turning out to be someone as plain and boring as Bram.

Stupidly enough.

Now here Bram lays, with a pool of possibility stretching out beneath him, not even sure how it would be the right way to approach Simon in real life.

The emails were secretive enough, but now both sides know who is who, and Bram thought he had overcome that scary barrier by gifting Simon with the t-shirt, but relationships are far more complicated than they seemed.

Bram wants to be with Simon. And this time, he wants it to be a proper  _ with _ . That’s all he knows now.

And that’s all that, after a little thought, guides him up and out of bed, barely stopping by his closet to make sure his appearance is decent and boyfriend-ish enough, and eventually out of the door of his house.

~~~

Simon admittedly broke the scale of cheesiness with that voicemail. He still can’t believe he left a  _ voicemail _ in the first place.

Of all ways to apologize to Bram.

But then again, he didn’t have a choice. Bram’s phone was shut down, apparently. Who knows why.

But Simon doesn’t really care much to overanalyze that right now. All that has been on his mind since he picked up the phone for the second time is the crushing hope he still has that Bram is willing to listen to him.

And willing to sit through a long-ass voicemail of Simon being a dork and trying to prove he’s sorry. And it also happens to be a voicemail Simon kind of regrets sending right now.

He should have at least planned it through before leaving the thing. This way, he would have gotten way less embarrassment points.

But it’s too late now, and Simon just  _ won’t _ leave a second note, so he simply sighs and keeps hoping.

It’s now been a couple of hours after the voicemail sent, and in that short amount of time, Simon’s parents got home. They’re now they’re downstairs preparing dinner while Simon tries and fails to do his homework as he promised them. Simon really did try to care about French, he swears he did, but whatever sentence off his textbook he read somehow brought Bram and the emails into his mind, and his brain spinned into thinking about Bram’s online flirting and their endless jokes about baguettes and wieners, and there went his studying.

He kind of completely gave up the effort eventually.

It seems like entire centuries have passed by from the moment the voicemail sent, and now Simon keeps eagerly checking his phone for a possible Bram text, and refreshing his email inbox on his computer, yet there’s nothing.

Bram is yet to say he’s alive and breathing and forgiving Simon.

He won’t lie, it kills Simon, that radio silence, because on top of it all Bram hasn’t been to school since Friday and he hasn’t been on Facebook either, so apart from moping after him, Simon also starts seriously worrying for his whereabouts and whatabouts.

Simon’s life just keeps getting more and more enjoyable and stress-free the quicker the days pass.

At some point he finds himself going back to his French reading after twenty more refreshes of the inbox tab, just because he has nothing better to do, and this time he plays some music through his headphones to help his mind stay in focus. But the universe itself just wants Simon’s academic career to drift down into nothingness because this time, it’s his mom that knocks on his bedroom door and captures his attention.

Simon mumbles a “come in,” while he takes out his headphones and dumps them on his desk next to a pile of notebooks.

“Sorry to interrupt,” his mom says, “but there’s someone on the door for you.”

Simon’s brow furrows. “Who?”

But it’s like he might already know who it is. His heart is already racing in his chest. His breath is already heaving in his lungs.

He doesn’t understand how he knows that. He can’t tell how he managed to sense him downstairs.

He’s just waiting for the confirmation that it’s actually  _ him  _ that came for Simon.

“From school, he said,” his mom replies. “His name is Bram Greenfeld.”

Simon doesn’t even let his mom finish her sentence before jumping up from his chair and running out of his room and down the stairs to where the house’s door is mid-open, separating him from Bram.

~~~

Bram hoped he got the address right. There was no place for mistakes, though he really couldn’t trust himself with even the simple act of pinpointing a house address which he received via text.

The thing is, Bram couldn’t keep himself from waiting any longer. He knew coming all the way here to Simon’s house uninvited and without notice was rude and his mom would scold him if she knew, but  _ he couldn’t wait. _

He wanted to see Simon. He wanted to hear him say he’s sorry in person. And he wanted to figure things out with him. Maybe even define the relationship, and whatnot.

He had to do it. It was driving him crazy not knowing where he stood with Simon and, most importantly, where Simon stood with him.

So he got in his car. He dialed up Nick’s number, and hoped he would pick up. He practically ordered for Nick to text him Simon’s address without even giving him reason. He didn’t care at all about how desperate he sounded, and he wasn’t able to tell how Nick reacted to that. He was pretty calm about it and didn’t seem to question it, though, even after having a handful of proof about how weird Bram has been acting around Simon, so Bram guesses he’s kind of grateful for that.

He just wanted to get to Simon.

And he did.

And here he is now.

And Simon’s standing right in front of him right now, still holding the door wide open, and he’s staring right into Bram, face laced with a bunch of emotions all at once.

~~~

Simon knows he’s staring. And he knows he needs to stop staring, and shut his damn mouth and keep it together because he’s been waiting for that moment since he called Bram in the first place, but he can’t stop.

And Bram can’t stop either.

It feels like too much will be lost if one of them dares break the eye contact.

Bram is here.

Bram came for him.

Bram listened to Simon’s mess of apology and came for him.

It’s quite honestly a magical moment. It’s a bit unreal. And Simon feels more alive than he ever has in the entirety of his seventeen years.

“Bram,” he breathes out.

Simon keeps staring as a small smile creeps up Bram’s cheeks, and then he stares some more as Bram opens his mouth and begins to say something. Bram stops mid-breath, and breaks the staring contest to look behind Simon’s shoulder. Simon looks back himself, and finds his mom watching down at them, perched on top of the stairs and leaning against the railing.

She has no clear idea about what’s happening because it’s not like Simon has caught her up with anything Blue-related the past few months, yet Simon knows she’s somehow figured it out within seconds.

What’s with moms and their creepy motherly insticts, anyway? Simon doesn’t get it.

He huffs sharply, rolling his eyes at his mom and turning back to Bram.

“Do you maybe, like, wanna go upstairs to my room?” he proposes, earning a curious look from Bram. “For privacy, I mean.”

“Sure,” Bram says, and Simon swears he almost misses it. That’s how quiet his voice is. Bram practically whispers it.

Which proves that it’s all about to get a lot more awkward because Simon is a nervous mess and he can’t speak actual sentences when alone with Bram and Bram is, well,  _ Bram. _ And he seems as nervous as Simon feels.

For a second, he almost doesn’t believe that Bram really is the person behind Blue, considering how much Blue has come to say over the emails for as long as they were talking and how little he and Bram have said to each other for as long as high school has been so far.

But then he remembers something Blue had said about him getting tongue-tied around cute guys and, honestly, if Bram gets tongue-tied around  _ Simon  _ then who is he to complain about that?

Simon gestures for Bram to come inside, stepping away to let him in. Right on queue his mom catches the hint and quickly walks down the stairs, giving Simon a pointed look as she passes by them and retreats into the kitchen. Bram proceeds to walk up towards Simon’s room, as quietly as he can, as though he doesn’t want to bother anyone, and Simon shuts the door and follows his track.

Bram stops once he walks down the hallway, right across from Simon’s bedroom door. Simon shows him in and they both disappear behind it as Simon closes it.

“Sorry about my mom,” he says, because mom talk is totally an ice breaker, according to him. “She’s a little noisy sometimes.”

Bram shakes his head. His eyes are down to the floor.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. “I would be too if I had a guest show up unannounced.”

Simon smirks faintly. “You’re no guest.”

Bram stares up, eyes wide. Simon just shrugs.

“You’ve been welcome here since day one. Even if my mom only got to meet you right now.”

A smile escapes Bram’s previously stern expression, and, God, another blush.

Simon already can’t get enough of the blushing. It’s too cute to handle. It low-key makes his knees weaken.

He dreads bringing it up and spoiling the moment, but he has to.

“So I’m guessing you’re here because you heard my voicemail?”

Bram nods. “I did. Just now, actually.”

“Just now?”

Bram shrugs. “Yeah. I figured it was no use waiting until tomorrow morning.”

Simon raises his brows in exclamation. He teases. “We’d do have an audience if I apologized and we made up and started kissing in celebration while on school grounds.”

Truthfully he doesn’t quite know where that newly acquired confidence (and subtle flirting) comes from, but for just a second he forgets he didn’t know who Blue was in person until a few days ago. It’s weird, but his emails had become the main, and the biggest part of his life and it’s like right now, they’re picking up from where they left off, with the only difference that there is nothing saparating them now, except for the few feet of distance they’ve put between them.

No heartbreak, no pining, no screen barriers. It’s just them. Just how they used to be.

Before Simon screwed up.

Multiple times.

“True. Girls would be following us everywhere cooing about how they find us  _ very _ cute and asking all kinds of invasive questions in no time,” Bram agrees.

Well, Bram isn’t wrong.  _ Straight girls’ minds work in odd ways, _ Simon thinks.

He chuckles softly.

“For real, though,” he says. “I’m sorry. That was literally the most idiotic thing I’ve ever done, and Nick and Leah have a whole list filled with idiotic things I’ve done. I shouldn’t have hung up like you don’t mean everything.”

“Do I, really?”

Simon stares back in confusion.

“Mean everything?”

Simon sighs. It’s not a frustrated sigh. It’s more of a Words-Aren’t-Sufficient-To-Let-Me-Explain-My-Emotions-So-I’ll-Sigh-And-Hope-You-Understand kind of thing.

“You  _ do. _ If I had any doubt before, because I wasn’t sure unless I actually knew you in person, it’s long vanished now.”

Bram takes a step closer to Simon. They’re both standing up, in the middle of the room, because sitting down on Simon’s bed meant too much work and could signify other… Stuff. But Simon doesn’t care, because Bram’s right in front of him, and he’s a little taller than he is, and his eyes are perfect and wide with hope and the most beautiful hue of brown he’s ever seen, and nothing else matters in the whole entire world.

“Well, I guess I’m sorry as well,” Bram says. He’s a breath away from Simon. His voice is still low, yet it sounds loud and crystal clear to Simon’s buzzing brain.

“For what?”

“For cutting you off,” he explains. “I thought I was doing the right thing, but I made it worse.”

Simon shakes his head frowning.

“Why did you even think you were doing the right thing in the first place?”

“You did guess me wrong,” Bram replies. “And then there was Abby playing matchmaker, and she implied you had a thing for a Cal Price, who I guess is the person you assumed I was, and it was all I needed to realize I have to step back.”

And, well, Simon is taken aback from that comment. He feels even worse than he did when he hung up on Bram. He never thought it would be manageable, but here he is now.

He had indeed thought Blue was Cal, for an extended amount of time. And Abby had caught on to it.

But only now does he realize that Bram was right there, seeing all the teasing go down and bearing with it with an aching heart.

“God, Bram, I--”

There aren’t words. They just won’t come out. Ironically enough.

“I hadn’t realized.”

“It’s fine, Simon, really. It’s in the past.”

“ _ No,” _ Simon half yells, stepping away from Bram. “It’s not fine. I’m out here, and I’ve been fucking shitty to the  _ one _ person I would rather die than cause pain to, and it only just hit me. And I can’t even say I’m truly sorry now more than ever because I’ve apologized far too many times in the span of a couple hours and it’s losing its meaning. It sucks, Bram. I suck. And I even tried victimizing myself!”

Simon’s brain is a spinning wreck, and he’s now pacing up and down his room, trying not to pull out his own hair in frustration.

He’s spitting out words too quickly for his head to process.

“You stepped away, you tried to do me a favor by not emailing me, yet  _ I _ almost got mad at  _ you, _ because you wouldn’t agree to meet me. I broke your heart and then was brave enough to blame you for my own bullshit. Oh my God, Bram, that’s just--- I wonder why you’re even here right now. I’ve been so unfair to you, without even realizing it. That’s so fucked up, Jesus Christ, I’m---”

“Simon?”

Bram’s voice anchors him from drifting to madness.

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

_ “What?” _

He doesn’t have time to process it further. Bram somehow magically appears in front of him, and they’re standing a breath away for the second time in the span of a few minutes (just that, Simon can barely handle) with the only difference that this time Bram curls his hand around Simon’s neck, about to pull him even closer.

“I said,” Bram rasps out. “Can I kiss you?”

Simon barely musters the energy to nod, because a short second later, Bram kisses him.

Simon almost forgets why he was screaming like he was a few seconds ago.

Who is he kidding, he almost forgets his own name.

_ Bram is kissing him. _

And he kisses back. And he makes it soft, and tender, and slow, because he knows Bram has zero kissing experience and so he has to guide him in.

But, honestly, Simon refuses to believe he’s Bram’s first kiss. His lips feel way too good on his, it’s almost heavenly. Too good for someone whose kissing career just started.

They break away after a little. Simon can hear Bram’s breath come out shaky and quickened, and it’s not like his is normal either. 

Simon leans back in for a small brush of his lips against Bram’s, just so it can feel real.

It doesn’t.

It’s too great for someone as…  _ normal _ and indifferent as Simon. He almost feels as though he isn’t worthy of it.

As though he isn’t worthy of Bram.

“Stop worrying about it,” Bram whispers on Simon’s lips. “It’s all in the past. We left that behind.  _ You _ left it behind, the moment you left that voicemail. Simon, I don’t care about you getting me wrong, I don’t care that you almost fell for another person. Well, okay, I do kind of care about that.”

A rush of guilt hits Simon’s chest, and he preps another wave of apologies, but Bram silences him, bringing up a finger to touch lightly upon Simon’s lips.

He can’t tell when and how Bram managed to let go of his nerves and get brave in the way he did, so as to practically  _ shush _ Simon with his finger, but he guesses that whatever he felt when he walked in this room and realized it was his Blue that was standing across him and not just a random guy, whatever that short-term feeling was, Bram felt it too.

Bram proceeds. “But it’s okay now. You proved your feelings to me. You told me you don’t want to lose me, and that you wouldn’t forgive it from yourself if you did, and that’s all I needed to hear to trust you again.”

Simon’s lungs flood with hope.

“I don’t want to lose you either, Simon.”

Which has Simon’s knees go weak.Literally. And he isn’t even ashamed of it.

Wow, talk about cheesy.

Simon feels so aggravated at himself. Maintaining a cynic reputation is tiring enough, but having Bram to deal with makes it even harder.

God. They’ll become that couple everyone hates because of how sappy they are.

“We’re really about to be that obnoxious, mushy couple aren’t we?” he asks, and Bram laughs. He wraps both his arms around Simon’s neck. Simon goes for Bram’s waist, holding him there.

“Totally. I’ll so pull a jealousy stunt right in front of the entire lunch table tomorrow unless you wish me for our one day anniversary.”

“Wow. Bossy enough.”

But Simon’s laughing, and Bram is too, and it feels like they’re wrapped up in their own little bubble of happiness, and Simon wants to stay in there forever.

Bram leans in for another kiss, and Simon holds him as close as he can. Too close, so he’ll be sure he doesn’t lose him again.

But. Seriously. The lips thing. How is Bram so talented at kissing already? It’s barely been a few minutes.

When they pull away, Simon has a question.

“So we’re officially in a relationship now, right?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“That’s what I want.”

“Thank God. It would have been awkward if it were one sided after all this kissing.”

Simon momentarily falls in love with Bram right then and there because of that statement only.

Bram ends up staying for a couple more hours, and all they do is talk, and talk, and talk, sitting close to each other atop the bed holding hands and stealing kisses from each other. It’s all until his mom texts Bram that she’s back and that he has to haul his ass home to do an hour worth of explaining.

As soon as Bram steps out of the door, Simon’s mom finds him on the corridor, and starts her usual interrogation, but Simon refuses to answer yet.

Some things he just has to keep to himself for as long as he can.

He goes back up in his room and falls right on his bed.

Simon stares at the ceiling as he thinks about how crazy the past few days has been, and how it all led up to this afternoon. He can’t believe it all came down to  _ this  _ when he thinks back at that day of August when he found Bram’s post on the school blog,and he put his closet at risk when replying.

And when he goes back to their first email thread, and he reads all emails he and Bram ever exchanged, it all makes perfect sense. It almost feels like it was all leading up to now. Like Simon was meant to screw up big time even from the moment he first emailed Bram, just so Bram could show up to his house and fix the whole thing when Simon was too raiden with guilt to fix it himself.

He doesn’t think that’s even possible, but Simon refuses to think rationally when it comes to Bram.

Another few hours later, he’s done with dinner, he evaded his family’s questions smartly and without answering a single thing, and he’s managed to squeeze in an outline for an assignment which he’ll work on tomorrow. So, it’s only logical for him to reward himself by texting Bram for the rest of the night.

_ Guess who just texted me, _ his text reads. Bram opens it immediately. And soon after, Simon receives a FaceTime call from Bram. He accepts it, and his screen reveals a slightly disgruntled Bram being illuminated by the room’s low light.

“If it’s Obama and you didn’t make a groupchat with all three of us then I’m breaking up with you,” Bram says over the video call.

Simon literally  _ giggles _ at that.

“Good guess, but no dice. I would never do you that dirty.”

“Then who is it?”

“Nick.”

“Oh. And why is that weird?”

“Because of what he texted me.”

Simon notices Bram’s frown through the pixelated screen. He wishes he could kiss it away.

But, yeah. Simon totally remains stone-cold and hardcore on the inside. He would never be soft because of Bram.  _ Never.  _ It’s all just dirty rumors circling around the school.

“What did he text you?”

Simon smirks. He opens his and Nick’s text thread and reads for Bram to hear.

“He says,  _ ‘Dude if you don’t tell me what the hell you and Bram Greenfeld have going on I might stop being friends with you’. _ ”

Bram laughs at that, hard, and Simon relishes over the sound of his laugh through the speaker.

“When I texted him back and told him that it’s none of his business, he said he and Abby made a bet and he didn’t want to lose it so I had to tell him.”

“So tell him,” Bram says.

The thing is, Simon wants to tell him.

And Simon will tell him, eventually.

It’s just that he wants to keep the details to himself for as long as he can.

It feels too precious to be talked about just yet.

Because what he and Bram have come to have until now, even before they put a name on it, has been freaking special.

It has been perfect. And it has been a roller coaster of emotions. And on top of it all, it has been romantic. And if Simon thinks about it too much, he’s sure he’ll end up tearing up.

Because it’s all the love story he awaited for himself.

It’s the love story he deserved.

And it’s the love story he got.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel very freaking proud of this fic so if you liked it, please let me know. Kudos are a thing. And comments! I love comments.
> 
> Also, I have a [twitter](https://twitter.com/bramqueerfeld) and a [tumblr](http://awkward-silence-bram.tumblr.com/) and I'm active on both, especially on twitter. So hit me up on there as well!! People say I'm cool.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading :))


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